


Pumpkin Spiced Roadtrip

by Metalbvcky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU where everyone is alive and gets along, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Civil War Team Captain America, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Halloween, Humor, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Nat braids Bucky's hair, POV Steve Rogers, Pizza, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pumpkins, Road Trips, Steve has no idea how to change a tire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalbvcky/pseuds/Metalbvcky
Summary: Halloween wasn’t exactly Steve's most memorable holiday. With heart problems and asthma, going out in the blistering cold on the thirty-first was next to impossible.So it came with no surprise the following Halloween after Bucky got his mind back. He begged— No, told Steve they would do something fun since they were back together in the modern day.Fun being, doing paperwork at a dealership to rent an RV.“Jersey? Why does it have to be Jersey?”--Team Cap's Halloween Roadtrip! Full of fluff, humor, petty arguments over food, and Halloween/Autumn themed attractions.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 21
Kudos: 40





	Pumpkin Spiced Roadtrip

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, being serious for once! Seriously, I think I'm burned out on writing crackfics haha. One, just a short little crackfic is planned for Thanksgiving. Then I think I'll mark my crackfic series as done. Because it's ~finally~ time to start working on that dang longfic I keep talking about. I miss writing longfics. Oneshots are great but the thrill of updating each chapter is calling my name. Yes, it's the 'kid!fic' you might see me rambling on over at Tumblr lol.
> 
> ANYWAY- here's this little over 8k pure autumn aesthetic Halloween roadtrip fic I came up with last minuite. (Buchanan Med's third oneshot is in the works if anyone is wondering btw) There's a scene around the middle that has me in tears, I very much enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Happy Halloween!!!
> 
> Oh and banner made by yours truly :3

“A road trip?” Steve asked, surprised Bucky would suggest such a thing. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.” Bucky grinned, pushing his laptop across the table. A website dedicated to road trips with an array of sights and attractions. “We could invite Sam, Nat, and Clint.” 

“Jersey?” Steve squinted at the screen, tugging it forward to get a better look. A couple of state parks, some waterfalls, and many scenic routes. “Of all places.” He tsked, eyes focused back on Bucky. “Why does it have to be Jersey?” 

Bucky shrugged a single shoulder. “It seems interesting?” 

“Mm, I dunno...” 

“Come on, punk.” Bucky stood up and patted Steve’s shoulder a couple of times. “Time to get off your butt and see the sights.” 

Steve sighed, Bucky had a point. The historic landmarks do look intriguing. “I’ll bring my sketchpad then.”

Halloween during Steve’s childhood wasn’t exactly the most memorable holiday. With heart problems and asthma, going out in the blistering cold on the thirty-first was next to impossible. Given the fact he spent many days lying in bed, sick as a dog with whatever illness he'd caught. 

So it came with no surprise the following Halloween after Bucky got his mind back. He begged— No, _told_ Steve they would do something fun since they were back together in the modern day. 

Fun being, doing paperwork at a dealership to rent an RV. 

Bucky tugged on Steve’s jacket sleeve. “Let’s go inside.” 

By far the largest and fanciest RV Steve had ever seen. Granite countertops, leather sofas, and wooden dining chairs pushed into a square glass table. A short hall led to two bedrooms. One with a queen sized bed and another with a top and bunk. 

“Wow.” Bucky walked to and from, checking out every piece of furniture. “This thing is bigger than our old apartment.” 

“Wouldn’t take much,” Steve called out from the front. 

Bucky sneaked up behind Steve. Strong arms wrapped around his still slender waist, hardly changed since the serum. A sweet touch of lips brushed over his cheek before Bucky rested his head on Steve’s back. “Whaddya think?” 

“It’s good.” Steve laid his hands over Bucky’s, where he began circling a smooth pattern over his stomach. “Spacious, enough to keep our distance from everyone at night.”  
  
Bucky chuckled, his warm breath tickling the back of Steve’s ear. “You’ve got that right.” 

Steve hummed, he’d much rather spend the weekend with Bucky alone given the choice. “Why are we inviting them again?” 

“‘Cause we need to spend time with our friends every once in a while.” Bucky dived in for another kiss before parting ways. “Besides, there will be other opportunities.” 

Bucky’s flirtatious wink brought a shiver of excitement down Steve’s spine. “Right, I’ll drive the bike back home and you follow me?” 

“Sounds good, Stevie.”

* * *

The following morning, four packed bags were piled by the front door. Far too many for Steve’s liking. All but one belonged to Bucky. Bucky’s favorite jackets and hair supplies took up most of the space. Though Steve was a simple guy. A couple days worth of clothes seemed plenty enough for a weekend trip. But not for Bucky, he packed as if they were going on a ten day cruise.

Sunglasses perched on Steve’s head, he carried yet _another_ bag down the stairs. Smaller with two little black buckles but still, the RV’s master bedroom had only but so much space. 

“Be careful with that one.” 

Curiosity killed the cat. Steve raised a brow and looked up at Bucky, a hand on the zipper. 

“Don’t open it!” Bucky’s voice echoed from the stairwell. 

Steve held himself back and set the bag on top of a large suitcase. Still itching to know what was inside, he pushed forward with a question. “Why not?” 

Bucky maneuvered a burgundy leather jacket sleeve through his metal arm. Usually, Bucky rips every left sleeve of every shirt or jacket he owned. Except for designer jackets. “It’s a surprise for one of our stops.” 

Steve smiled right as the doorbell rang, he turned the knob. “Is that so?” 

Bucky held onto the bag for dear life. “Trust me, it’s gonna be worth the wait.” 

“This is Halloween you filthy animals,” Clint shouted with his arms splayed out, bumping into Sam and Natasha. 

Sam eyed Clint up and down, a disapproved look on his face. “Did you just combine a Halloween and Christmas reference into one?” 

Six eyes took notice of the amount of luggage after Clint's little outburst of excitement. 

Sam scoffed and held up both hands in surrender, backing up as if insulted. “Sorry, didn’t realize a valet service was needed when I accepted the invite.” 

Natasha twirled her long braid with a finger, she whistled. “Thought I overpacked.” 

Showoff of the group, Steve carried a medium sized bag with a single arm like it was nothing to it. “Don’t mind, Bucky.” 

Clint lifted the largest one, muscles contrasting as he did so. “Barnes,” he grunted. “What’s in these bags, rocks?” 

“Yes,” Bucky nodded, voice full of sarcasm while holding the door open. The second least useful person, Natasha stood there watching the two of them struggle with all their might. 

Between everyone, the number of bags came down to a total of seven. Four in the master bedroom, two in the guest bedroom, and one next to the pullout sofa in the living area. So much for ‘ _light packing_.’ Steve had no idea why he even bothered in the first place. 

“So this is what it’s like to be rich and old,” Clint said, flopping onto a leather sofa with a cup holder built into the armrest. 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, at least he doesn’t look old. “Gee thanks, Clint.” 

“Who's driving this thing?” Sam looked between everyone, brow raised. “Because I sure am not.” 

Bucky leaned against the wall, hands in his jeans pockets. “Stevie and I can take turns.”  
  
Clint sat up and raised an arm, accidentally bumping into Natasha in the process, _again_. “Just lemme know when I’m needed.” 

Right before bed last night, Bucky had explained the road trip plan in extensive detail. They’d take the backroads instead of the interstate. More attractions that way, Bucky told Steve when asked. Funny thing was, Steve doesn’t exactly know what some of those would be. Bucky flat out refused to tell him anything about some stops. The thrill of the unknown. A lingering thought in the back of his mind gave Steve a feeling of half excitement yet half nervousness. Who knew where they’d end up. 

Somewhere good hopefully. 

For such a large sized vehicle, Steve doesn’t partially prefer it compared to the comfort of his bike. Old fashioned, he took out a paper map he’d planned out earlier in the morning. “You good with the first stop, Buck?” One of the many stops had amazing views even without leaving stepping outside. Although Steve considered hiking down one of the small trails at some point.

Sam snorted behind Steve as if he couldn’t peer over his shoulder and see that grin on his face. “Figured you’d be a physical map kinda guy.” 

“It's a good four hours away, depending on traffic." Bucky poked his head out from the full sized refrigerator, then closed it. “Better idea, let's save it for tomorrow and go to the second stop instead." 

Natasha reclined the passenger seat halfway and stretched her legs out, vibrant polka dot socks covering her feet. “Be glad he doesn’t use a flip phone.” 

“Hey, I admit,” Steve said amidst a shrug, engine roaring to life from a turn of the key. “Smartphones do come in handy.” 

Blue ice pop in hand, Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair, only to mess it up. Who eats those things this early in the morning? “Then why not use a GPS app, punk?” 

“I like it this way. Simplicity.” Steve stated as a matter of truth. Forget the blue dot, plain old paper does the job. It worked for him unlike everyone else who tried to hide their snickering. “What?” 

Sam let out a hard snort and slapped his jean covered knee. “‘Simplicity’ he says.” 

“Help me here, Buck.” 

Bucky mumbled between a large bite. Juices slid down his chin and Steve’s mind went elsewhere within an instant. “You’re on your own with this one, pal.” 

Arguing over the pros and cons of the two didn’t win Steve any favors. No one would back his position. Not even Clint who relied on old-fashioned arrows instead of bullets. It was beyond useless to pursue the subject further so Steve dropped it entirely. 

No more than half an hour later, _another_ argument came up. Steve had no part of it. Neither did he start it. Absurd banter came from the living area. 

“How was I supposed to know?” Bucky stared hard at Sam where he leaned back against the couch’s bottom edge, legs crossed on the floor. 

“The note on the box should’ve given it away,” Sam scoffed as if anyone could ignore one of Bucky’s remarks. He lowered his phone where he'd hid his face. “‘Barnes. Do. Not. Eat.’” 

Bucky turned his head slightly to scoff back an annoyed grunt but a hand straightened him back instead. “Be still,” Natasha tutted, fingers entwined in three separate strands of hair. 

“Sorry,” Bucky said, more so for Natasha than Sam. A whine of discomfort escaped his lips as Natasha pulled his hair tighter. Earlier, Bucky had taken a peak of interest with Natasha's long braided hair. She offered and he accepted. The long drawn out process kept him at bay because normally he’d launch himself right at Sam during their witty banter. 

“Uh-huh,” Sam said and went back to scrolling through his phone. “It was a damn good pizza too.” 

Steve took his eyes off the road for a moment and looked back at Sam. “He’ll make it up to you.”   
  
“Really?” Sam raised a brow, narrowing his eyes at Bucky. 

Natasha grabbed Bucky’s attention by tapping him on the shoulder. She brought up a handheld mirror, Bucky immediately took it. “Oh, Nat,” he said, voice quiet as a whisper. Two thick braids were on either side, loose strands of hair dangled behind his ears.  
  
Sam laughed, smiling wide enough to show off his front tooth gap. “You look like a Disney princess.” 

“Nah, more like Legolas,” Clint piped up, lounging on the other side of the large sectional next to Sam, feet resting on the coffee table. 

“Now what’s this about making up for my _last slice_ of pizza?” Sam asked again, looking between Sam and Bucky. 

“Well,” Bucky started. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Tell ‘em, Buck,” Steve said shrugging. “We’re almost there anyway.” 

“Stevie and I never had a fair share of pizza growing up.” 

“You mean we’re going to a pizzeria?” Clint said, straightening up when Bucky nodded. “Oh, I’m not gonna be able to walk afterward.” 

“Alright then, I might let your little mistake slide,” Sam smirked throughout a short laugh. 

They pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot within the hour. An old but not decrepit log cabin stood out from the far right. A single staircase led to a narrow covered deck. Autumn leaves blew with the wind, scattering the ground in a mix of orange and reds.

Walls made of stone surrounded polished table benches instead of plain old tables and chairs. The interior matched well with the rustic themed decor. 

“Nice place,” Natasha said once they were seated. 

“Yeah, not bad,” Steve nodded at Natasha, who sat across from him. 

“Almost didn’t make it here if it weren’t for Steve’s map reading skills,” Bucky said, getting a light elbow jab from Steve. 

Steve flipped through a laminate menu. “So what are we thinking? The largest size they’ve got?” 

“I’ll eat anything.” Clint oohed and aahed, mouth practically watering at the array of photographed pizzas on the menu. 

“Really appreciate this but I think I have competition,” Sam leaned back and whispered in close proximity to Bucky's ear. 

“Mm, no,” Bucky mused, eyeing Steve who went on and on about different toppings. “We both have competition.” 

“Buck, you know I can hear you,” Steve said, closing the menu. “We’ll order enough to go around. Not like it’s nineteen thirty somethin’ anymore.” 

“Punk, you can eat at least three pizzas in one sitting given the choice.” 

Sam sputtered into his soda, liquid sliding down the clear glass. “Three?” he choked out, coughing from the abrupt action. 

Steve blushed hard throughout a faint chuckle, dark pink shading his cheeks. “My metabolism is no joke.” 

“Found out the hard way when we went to the mall that one time,” Natasha said, poking her face up from hiding beneath the menu. “Sharing a soft pretzel wasn’t my brightest idea.” 

“Ooh I want one of those,” Bucky said and took out a small spiral notebook. “We should make that a stop.” 

Clint plucked the menu out of Natasha’s hands. “You had one of those hot and fresh pretzels without me?” The look in his eye resembled a puppy dog not getting its way. 

“Promise I’ll get you a pretzel,” Natasha sighed, rubbing the space between Clint’s shoulders and neck. 

Too late, Sam was able to catch a tiny glimpse of Bucky’s list before he could close it. “A haunted house?” Sam said quietly, smirking.

“Shh!” Bucky hastily tucked it back into his coat pocket. Natasha and Clint hadn’t heard a thing since the waitress came over at the right time.

“Hate to tell you Buck, but that’ll be so trivial to us.” Steve dared to laugh but the possibility of alerting the others was far too risky. If Bucky still wanted to keep quiet about it, so be it. 

“Yeah, but that’s the fun part.” Bucky bit into a breadstick the waitress had brought over. Agreeing, Bucky gave a shallow nod of acceptance with the choices he made, allowing Steve to place their order. “And we never had any of this stuff growing up, so why not try it at least once?” 

Enough food for a small army ordered, Steve settled back in his chair. With a smile, he listened in on his friends talking about the latest internet sensation or whatever. Why they never thought of a weekend getaway before, he’d never know. Good on Bucky for persuading him into going. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve said, now unable to stop himself from laughing. Short chuckles of breath slipped past his lips. He searched Bucky’s eyes for permission before enlacing their fingers together. Swiping a thumb over the smooth plates, he brushed over a different type of metal. 

A promise ring. 

Soon as Bucky got out of Cryo-sleep with his memories intact, Steve proposed the idea of it. A commitment. He’d bought the ring on a whim and at the time it seemed like a good idea. Lucky enough to settle his nerves back down, Bucky had been ecstatic. More than happy about it actually. The engraving was what brought tears to both of their eyes. 

_To the end of the line, now and forever._

Steve swore he saw a twinkle in Bucky’s eye. Or maybe the yellow-ish lighting fooled him into thinking it. He swallowed a sappy pick-up line down because right then, two waiters made their way over. Each of them carried two large trays. Fellow patrons gave them an eyeful of suspicion from the massive size. Toppings varied from pepperoni, sausage, bell pepper, onions, mushrooms, and olives. 

“Wow,” Sam said, using the provided pizza cutter to cut himself a piece. “If this ain't a spread.” 

“Plain old cheese is my personal favorite.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand before letting go. 

“Tasha,” Clint moaned into his first bite, greasy cheese and pepperoni hanging from his chin. “I love you but sometimes I think I love pizza more.” 

Natasha let out a prolonged sigh she always used on Clint. “I know.” 

“I’m right there with you, Nat,” Bucky too sighed but amidst a soft laugh. Steve froze, pizza halfway into his mouth. “Calm down pizza lover, I know you love me.” 

Chewing, Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky. “Don’t act like you don’t have an odd fascination with plums.” 

This time, it was Bucky’s turn to scramble to a halt. “You can’t just— okay, that’s mean,” he huffed, wiping his hands with a paper napkin. "Least we’re even now, punk.” 

“You guys are _adorably_ gross,” Sam said along with Natasha and Clint humming in agreement. 

For the rest of the meal, they ate in complete silence, save for the constant smacking noises Clint made between open mouthfuls. Table manners were not Clint's strong suit. Numerous short lived topics slipped up every now and then. Though one conversation piqued Steve’s interest. 

“A contest?” Steve asked while trying yet failing to wipe the remaining grease off his hands. 

Natasha tilted her head down in a half nod, the brightness of her phone casting a faint glow on her face. “It’ll be interesting.” 

“We all know who’ll end up winning,” Sam muttered under his breath. 

Bucky draped his metal arm around Steve’s shoulders, fingers tracing a consistent pattern over the wool fabric of his sweater. “You do have the most followers after all,” he said to Steve, gaze warm and admiring. 

Steve shifted in his chair and turned his face away, mostly to hide the faint blush he sported. “So whoever ends up with the most likes, wins?” 

“Two days worth of attractions should give us more than enough time,” Clint said, still munching on a corner of the crust. “Maybe I’ll surprise you all with my photo taking skills.” 

“What are you gonna do?” Sam nudged Clint’s foot underneath the table. “Have Natasha take a picture of you hanging from a tree limb?” 

Clint kicked back but accidentally bumped right into Bucky’s shin, he uttered a brief apology. “As if you’re not gonna take a birdwatching selfie.” 

“Hey, I am not a birdwatcher!” Sam raised his voice, leaning an elbow on the table. “Or a bird lover of any sort.” 

Bucky went in for the kill. “The lorikeets you fed at the zoo begs to differ."

Chair legs lifted off the ground, Steve threw his head back. Laugher, short little chuckles of breath among Sam and Bucky’s argument. Crinkled eyes reflected total amusement. He then buried his face into Bucky’s neck and gripped the table’s edge to balance himself. 

Paid and ready to leave, everyone was stuffed by the end of the meal. Too much pizza for one day. Or week, a month for that matter. 

“Oh god, I’m gonna explode,” Clint said, launching himself face-first into the couch’s cushion, decorative pillows landing on the ground. “Wake me up when September comes.” 

“September _ends_ ,” Natasha corrected, moving over to sit on Clint’s calves and was immediately rewarded with a garbled shriek. “Aww poor thing, but you can handle it, I’m light.” 

Bucky pressed the palm of his hand to Steve’s chest, stopping him from climbing into the driver's seat. “I’ll take over.” 

“You sure, Buck?” Steve sidestepped to give Bucky room for them to switch places. 

“Yeah and ‘sides, you should rest up after all that pizza,” Bucky said, turning the key in the ignition. 

“You ate as much as me,” Steve argued, now seated in the passenger seat with the seatbelt over himself. 

“But I know when to stop eating once I’m full.” 

“And you’re saying I never watch how much I eat?” At that moment, Steve’s stomach rumbled something awful. Loud, gurgly noises mixed with a faint dull ache. “On second thought, I think I’ll join Clint.” 

Passing by, Bucky caught Steve’s elbow with his free hand, giving him a light squeeze before letting go. “Feel better, Stevie,” he continued and added, “I packed some medicine if you need any.” 

Steve had a hand over his stomach when he turned around. “You’re a lifesaver, Buck.”  
  
“Nah.” Bucky glanced over his shoulder, lips upturned in a small loving smile. “You are.” 

It took Steve’s breath away to hear such sweet words coming from Bucky. Or alternately, it might just be his stomach yelling at him for consuming three-fourths of an extra-large pizza. Either way, Steve felt shaky on his legs and the best idea for him was to lie down on the comfy bed. 

“Feeling alright, Steve?” Sam asked as he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. 

Steve mumbled a quiet, _fine_ , then turned the knob leading to the master bedroom. “Just gonna take a quick nap.” 

Arms stretched above his head throughout a wide open-mouthed yawn, Steve crossed over to the bag they kept all their toiletries in. Even super soldiers would get the occasional tummy ache. So of course Bruce was more than happy to create a medicine made specifically for them. Pulling out the orange bottle, Steve’s eyes flicked over to the small bag with the chest straps. 

Everything up until that point told him not to open it. So tempting yet so wrong to consider the action. Steve had made Bucky a promise. He always kept to his word and never went back on them. Water sliding down his throat after popping the pill, he focused on the curtained window.

The warm colors of the trees blurring by struck inspiration. A solid plan. Nap then sketch until the next stop. The black bag was far from his mind when he pulled back the thick comforter. Quite frankly, driving let alone devouring such a large meal had finally caught up to him. 

Forty-five minutes of peace came to a screeching halt, literally. Tires screeched noisily against the gravel road, little pebbles of concrete flying inside metal rims. Direct impact collided against something. As if rubber gave way to loss of inflation pressure. A loud bursting bang resembled an explosion. 

Kicking the covers off, Steve bolted right out of bed and threw the door open. Good thing the medicine kicked in quickly as it did. 

“What happened?” Steve stood in the middle of the open layout, surveying for any sort of damage or threat. 

Bucky jammed the gear shift into park. “Goddamn deer in the road,” he grumbled, standing up. “Ran over a pothole to avoid it.” 

“You got a spare in the back?” Sam said, already heading in that direction. 

Steve took one look at Bucky and shrugged. He never changed a tire in his life so of course he hadn’t thought to double-check. “Maybe?” 

Bucky brushed past Steve to follow Sam out but he stopped and gave Clint an exasperated look. Clint was still in the exact same position since they left the restaurant. Only Natasha lounged in an armchair nearby. 

“Don’t look at me,” Clint sighed pitifully into the pillow he cradled for dear life. “I'm out of commission.” 

“Alright then. Steve, you get to do the honors.” 

Steve tucked his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, putting up a defensive stance. “And do what exactly?” 

Bucky winked with a click of his tongue. “Stand there and look pretty while we switch the old one out.” 

A lengthy heaved curse echoed from the underside of the vehicle. “Where a space tire should go, isn’t there.” 

“You’re kidding?” Bucky dipped his head to the side, metal arm stretched out with his palm flat against the window. “The dealership promised a full workup.” 

Cringing at himself, Steve settled a gentle hand on Bucky’s lower back. “I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” The contact released all the tension in Bucky’s shoulders instantaneously. “And really, I should’ve checked behind them.” 

Sam pulled out his phone and scrolled through. He tapped a couple of times before presenting a conclusion to solve their sticky situation. “There’s an auto repair shop not too far from here.” 

“See?” Steve said, lightly patting Bucky’s back. “Everything works out.”

Bucky took Sam’s offered phone and zoomed in on the map. “Let’s hope we can make it in one piece.” 

The short half-mile drive had been successful. Behind a vintage looking gas station slash convention store was an old falling apart battered garage. Years of rust hid the original name on the sign hanging below the front entrance. Definitely had seen better days.  
  
Squinting, Steve managed to make out a few visible letters. Only one word remained by the looks of it.

_‘Lee’_

Last one out, Clint stumbled on his own two feet. “I need a ginger ale,” he said and nearly face-planted into the dirt if not for Natasha holding out her awaiting arms. 

“How many, their entire stock?” Bucky zipped up his dark hoodie, the light breeze began to pick up. 

“The rate he’s going,” Natasha grunted, a two hundred pound archer wasn’t exactly easy to carry on one's own. “Yeah.” 

Bucky bent his knees and threw Clint’s arm over his shoulder. “You’re almost dramatic as Steve whenever he got sick as a little thing.” 

“I heard that.”  
  
“And you still are!” Bucky shouted as he and Natasha carried Clint up the brick steps. 

“Well this place doesn’t look shady at all,” Sam said, voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“Come on, Sam.” Steve glanced around as though trying to find someone inside the empty covered workshop. Not a person in sight. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” 

“Oh wow, Captain America!” 

Steve and Sam spun around at the title. Around the corner, a side door slammed shut. A white haired man sporting a thick mustache wore a ratty blue cap with aviator’s resting on the bridge of his nose. 

The man offered his wrinkly old aged hand. “The name’s Stan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Steve put on an all too familiar persona he’d used in official government settings. He held his chin up high throughout the brief handshake. “You too, sir.” 

“Don’t see too many folks come by this old dirt road.” Stan tilted his head in the direction of the RV parked a few feet away. “I reckon you’ve got a flat?” 

“Yeah, front left side.” Steve squinted and ducked his head, the sun gleaming directly into his eyes. 

Stan grabbed the rusty handle of a paint-stained toolkit off a wooden workbench. “If it's not too much trouble could you grab a tire from the rack behind the white Cutlass?” 

“Sure,” Steve said and went to do so but not before giving Sam a silent look. Of, ‘ _this place isn’t too bad, it's just an old man and a repair shop._ ’ 

“Hey, don’t look at me, man,” Sam whispered once Stan was out of earshot. 

Hefting the tire up easy as Thor lifts Mjolnir, Steve’s back faced Stan to deafen their hushed tones. “Give ‘em time, he’ll recognize you at some point.” 

“Like they always do,” Sam said, arms crossed. “When _you’re_ not around mister stars and stripes.” 

Stan carried on with the conversation throughout the tire change, sliding the jack underneath. “You know,” he began, “I also fought in world war two.” 

Sam’s eyes bulged out of their sockets in pure alarm. Involuntarily, Sam reached out for Steve’s elbow and pulled him forward to a low head bow. “That was seven decades ago.” 

“Maybe he’s just confusing it with the Vietnam War.” Steve raised his voice to address Stan, who now unscrewed the lug nuts. “What rank?” 

“General,” Stan said. “Even got to punch Hitler in the face.” 

What sounded like a low shrieked whine came from Sam. “Dude,” he said, looking warily at Stan. “Something isn’t right about this.” 

Steve couldn’t argue with that, he turned back to Stan. “Really?” 

“Got an honorable discharge because of it,” Stan confirmed, replacing the old tire with the new. “Then I found myself working odd end jobs a couple of years later.” 

“Oh, this should be good,” Sam snickered, tipping his chin up. “Ever do any volunteer work at the VA?” 

“No, but a mad scientist stole my shoe and I ended up delivering packages half barefoot.” Stan tinkered with the lug wrench, turning it clockwise. “Though it worked in my favor because I got to meet Tony Stank!”

Bypassing the 'Stank' part, Steve hovered his thumb over the contact in his phone but Sam pushed his arm down. “You’ll never forget about a guy like him,” Sam said. “But I _do not_ want to pass this information on.” 

Steve pocketed his phone in defeat. “True, you’ve got a point.” Stan went on about the time a group of aliens took him to the moon but left him stranded until a celestial entity saved him. “Tony would have a field day with this.” 

Stan kept going on and on as if his crazy journey of life didn’t seem odd. “Worked as a bus driver and this kid gave me a bottle of some new fangled soda.” Tools clunked against each other, the toolbox lid clicked shut. “Had to stay on the phone with poison control before the ambulance arrived.” 

“That um,” Steve cleared his throat, honestly he had no idea what to say to this guy. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Stan waved a hand in the air, the task of a tire replacement now complete. “Well, not as bad as the time I got fired from the Smithsonian,” he said. “Your suit got stolen one night and they blamed it on me.” 

Sam straight up _cackled_ at the namedrop but caught himself once he realized his mistake. A moment of silence fell but then Stan burst out into laughter. What a character. Steve drew his face up into a half smile and faked a few laughs. 

Stan clapped a hand over both Sam and Steve’s shoulders. “Nah, I’m just messin’ with you. I made all that stuff up!” 

Awkward enough, Bucky, Natasha, and Clint chose that very moment to walk out of the convenient store. “Mr. Lee, your wife is a true savior,” Clint said before throwing his head back to chug an entire liter of ginger ale. 

“She’s one of a kind, I’ll tell you that much,” Stan said and refused Steve’s handful of twenty-dollar bills with a hard no. “More than happy for you and your friends to drop by, son. Although, I guess you should be calling me that,” he laughed. 

Natasha and Clint retreated back inside while Bucky brushed up against Steve’s side. “This has been the best stop so far,” Bucky whispered next to Steve’s ear, breath smelling of some sort of plum flavored treat. 

“Pal, you don’t even know half of it.” 

Sam shook Stan’s hand with a great big tooth-gap smile. “Thanks for saving us from a tow but we should get going.” 

“Yes, of course,” Stan said, he looked over to Steve and Bucky and made a noise resembling like he’d forgotten something. “Oh, just hold a second. Can I take a picture with you?” 

Steve took a step forward. “Of course.” 

“Not you,” Stan pointed at Bucky. “Him.”  
  
Bucky blinked a couple of times. “Me?” 

“And him.” 

Sam raised his arms in triumph, whooping with joy, and took the opportunity given by standing next to Stan. “Get over here, man.”

Bucky all but laughed in Steve’s face which could only be described as pure disappointment. “I’m enjoying the role reversal.” 

Steve wiped the look of sadness off his face the second his eyes landed on Bucky. Bucky, whose energy conveyed such happiness like never before. Forget his ego, he’d watch Bucky take selfie after selfie with the nice yet _odd_ man any day. 

“Love the arm!” Stan tapped the black metal mixed with flakes of gold, chucking as he did so. 

Bucky smiled and wiggled his fingers ever so slightly. “Thank you.”

“It was nice meeting you, Stan,” Steve said. 

Leaving took an extra ten minutes because the old man acted like he had no concept of time. 

“How in the world does someone come up with that stuff.” Sam paced around while scratching his head before deciding to crash on an armchair. 

“What did he say?” Bucky asked, completely oblivious. 

“Claimed he was a World War Two vet.” Steve went on to say more but stopped at the space aliens part. 

Bucky got a kick out of that, cute little chuckles of laughter. “Well, maybe we’re not the only ones who were frozen in time.” 

“It was a fib, Buck.” Steve pulled out the paper map and flipped it around a few times. “Now where exactly is— oh, it’s upside down.” 

Clint groaned, not out of pain but irritation. “He’ll get us lost eventually.” 

“He better not,” Bucky’s voice rumbled deep in his chest. Like a mama bear growling at a predator. “How ‘bout I take over.”  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” The right blinker clicked. A sharp turn to the right, down a road filled with nothing but trees. 

Bucky peered over Steve’s shoulder, running a metal finger over the highlighted road on the map. “Mmm, alright.”   
  
Steve glanced up at Bucky through long lashes. “You gonna tell me what this stop is about?” 

“Nope.”  
  
“Come on, Buck.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Please?”  
  
“Hmm, I don’t think so.”  
  
“Gimme a hint.”  
  
Natasha’s voice carried over from the short hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Pumpkins!” 

“Nat!” Bucky turned to yell a petty insult. “How’d you know?”  
  
Natasha walked over with a folded brochure pamphlet. “The billboard two miles ago should’ve given it away but this,” she said, dangling it between her pointer finger and thump. “Was given to me by Mrs. Lee.”

Snatching the brochure out of Natasha’s grasp, Bucky held it close to his chest as Steve hadn’t seen a thing. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” 

A pang of admiration tugged Steve’s heart. “We’re going to a pumpkin patch?” he gasped, remembering when they were kids. Back then, they were barely able to scrape up enough money to buy one to eat let alone carving. “Is that what you’ve been hiding from me? Carving tools?” 

Something crossed Bucky’s face, a thought, hesitation. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Yes and no.” 

“I bet it’s knives,” Sam cut in from afar. 

Steve let out a short sigh of breath. How silly of him for expecting anything but that. He averted his gaze away from the road for one little second. “How many did you bring?” 

Bucky scoffed, brows creased in a fine line as he tried to backtrack. “I only brought three.” Caught red-handed in the act of checking over himself, a brown ankle holster poked out above Bucky’s boot. “Okay four, but that’s not what’s in the bag.” 

A sign from moments ago said to head west and turn at the very first road you came to. Two spaced out roads ahead displayed no signage, not even one. Double checking the map seemed right as rain so Steve put his right blinker on and made a sharp turn. 

“Now I’m concerned.” Literally and figuratively speaking. Steve held his breath for a beat but released it once a welcome sign came into view. The narrow road went on for what looked to be a mile. At least he found the place. 

“Don’t be,” Bucky said and used an all too familiar grin that usually meant, ‘ _you have no idea what’s in store for you_.’

Twenty minutes seemed too soon but the name on the welcome sign matched the brochure. Bright orange pumpkins of all different shapes, sizes, and colors dotted the grassy lush field. Artificial pumpkins with varying facial expressions decorated the front entrance. Purple and orange light strands coiled around a fence, sunlight diluted their full potential but was visible enough. 

“Ooh they’ve got roasted pumpkin seeds,” Sam said, eyeing the advertised sign. “I’m getting at least two bags worth.” 

Once parked, everyone split up and went their own way. Except for Bucky, who stayed close behind Steve. 

Steve picked up a faded miniature sized pumpkin, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. “Remember when we used to carve ma’s old tin cans?” 

Bucky hummed and took a minute before choosing a much larger one. Orange of course, but with alternating green stripes and dots littering across the circumference. “Yeah,” he said, running a finger along the sides. “Wasn’t that the time you caught the tablecloth on fire?” 

“The neighbor gave it as a housewarming gift,” Steve laughed softly at the memory. “She never let me live it down either.” 

Bucky stalked around the pile of multi-colored pumpkins, heavy boots smushing the even cut grass. “She was gonna give you hell either way since we used the last set of candles.” 

Thinking a design wouldn’t do for such a small pumpkin, Steve switched it out with a larger one. “We got good use out of them either way.” 

“Oh we sure did,” Bucky said, now carrying two equality sized pumpkins under his arms. “By staying up all night when you caught that awful case of scarlet fever.” 

A not so pleasant memory surfaced but loud stomps against the curved path vanished any lingering thoughts. “Try this pumpkin spiced cake,” Sam said, holding up a sample sized piece to Bucky’s mouth, white icing with a pecan covering the top. 

Hands already full, Bucky let Sam feed him the offered dessert. “Oh, _my god._ ” 

“Right!” 

Bucky licked his lips, gears turning in his head. “Is that a hint of...plum extract?”

“Cream cheese too.” 

“We’re buying one of those.” 

Steve made a face between distaste and repulsion. Pumpkin mixed with _plums_? Who would enjoy such a thing? To give Bucky credit, he does eat odd combinations of foods. 

The small enclosed market was stocked with every type of food you could think of. Baked goods, fruits, and vegetables. Candy took up most of the shelf space though. Clint rifled through a multitude of packaged hard candy like a kid in a candy store. 

Steve leaned against the checkout counter beside Natasha. “You’re not gonna stop him?” 

“I’m letting him have his fun,” Natasha said, unwrapping a pack of candy. They came to get pumpkins yet candy and cake seemed to excite the others far more. 

Second kid in the candy store, Bucky stacked a variety pack of Halloween themed chocolate onto their claimed pile of goods. “This place is better than what the website showed.” 

Natasha stayed eerily silent until Bucky ran off to discuss sour candy flavors with Sam and Clint. “Yeah, about that.” 

A strange sense of deja vu sparked in Steve’s head. “What do you mean?”

“There are two locations,” Natasha said, looking straight forward as she fidgeted with the wrapper. “This one has a store, the other doesn’t.” 

Steve grit his teeth with a curse. “Should’ve known I missed a turn!” He towered over Natasha, their heights substantially different. “You knew about it this whole time?” A simple nod. “So why didn’t you say anything?” 

Natasha shrugged, popping another hard candy in her mouth. “Couldn’t resist Rusian candy.” 

Feeling defeated, Steve wiped a hand over his forehead. “That puts us about a half an hour behind schedule,” he breathed a heavy sigh. “Bucky was looking forward to the goats at the zoo.” 

Meanwhile, Bucky and Clint took turns switching each other's lopsided pumpkin hats for different ones. “We’re already at a zoo,” Natasha noted, and she couldn’t be more right. 

Sam carried a medium sized bag of pumpkin seeds over and sat them on top of their overflowing pile. “You’re telling me.” 

“We’ll be here all afternoon at this rate,” Steve said, daring to roll his eyes at the bat headband with hair tucked behind Bucky's ears. Okay, now that was cute. 

Natasha winked, pushing off the counter. “I’ll go speed things up.” 

“Tell Buck I’m buying that headband.” 

Whispering into Bucky’s ear while staring right at Steve, Natasha pointed a finger at the hat section. It took no delay for Bucky to rush forward and grab the selected item. 

Steve groaned, but with a smile. “I’m regretting this.” 

Autumn colored flowers between five-inch gold antlers met his head. “There.” Bucky adjusted the fit, tapping Steve’s cheek once satisfied. “Now we match.” 

Sam broke down into chest heaving laughter. “A deer and a bat,” he said. “Aren’t you two a pair?” 

A faint noise of the camera app shuttered.

“Delete that.” 

Bucky pocketed his phone with a smug grin. “Sure.” 

A little over a hundred dollars down the drain, they made it back to the warm confines of the RV. Steve insisted on driving once again and got no protests of doing so. Everyone was too caught up with the pumpkin carving party to notice Steve sneaking his phone out. 

The thought of joining them and letting Clint take over crossed his mind but he had a more important matter to attend to. Wrong direction or not, he’d figure a way to get them back on track. Though the paper map doesn’t list the specific road they were on. So the map he brought wasn’t the most ideal thing in the world. Surely a peek at the GSP app would tell him where to go. The little blue dot stared at him, blinking. 

_Seventy-six miles east._

More than he thought, but he could manage. Most of the route consisted of straight roads with a few curved turns here and there. Traffic would let up by the late evening and it was already half-past five. Their little shopping trip ended up taking a good chunk of their time. 

Seeds dripping with their juices landed on a paper towel covered tupperware container. “Ya’ll ever had roasted pumpkin seeds?” Sam asked as if there wasn't a two-pound bag on the kitchen counter. 

“Gee, I don’t know,” Clint said sarcastically. 

_"Fresh_ pumpkin seeds,” Sam clarified. 

Bucky took his sweet time carving out a shape resembling a mouth. “Pumpkin pie is better.” 

“Seconded,” Natasha said, cutting the top off the tall and thick pumpkin. 

“Really?” Sam shook his head with a roll of the eye. “My mama’s pecan pie is out of this world.”

“I can attest to that,” Steve said, smartphone brightness lowered so the glow wouldn’t bounce off his face. His first thanksgiving after coming out of the ice had been with Sam’s family and he hadn't been able to say no. Sam’s mother’s pecan pie and baked macaroni and cheese were to die for. 

“See.” Bird wings, of all things Sam chose to carve. “Someone knows what’s good.” 

The conversation morphed into an argument over what types of food were better or worse. With his phone off, Steve made a turn only to be met with a bright orange sign. 

_Detour ahead._

Fumbling to power his phone back on had been useless since a ‘no service’ message popped up. That was the third time it happened too. A now pointless map and a detour. Sue him for not admitting to his mistake. Even if and _only_ if he wanted to, the embarrassment would be far too much to handle. So maybe he was exaggerating but knowing Bucky, he’d joke about it for weeks. 

Stubborn as ever, Steve kept on driving and hoped for the best. 

Three hours of oddball conversations, eating most of the snacks, and carving unique looking designs had worn everyone out. Except for Steve. His strategy of focusing on every street sign seemed to work. Maybe he doesn’t need a physical map or GPS after all. 

Bad thought. 

What was supposed to be a bridge wasn’t there. Instead, orange cones and yellow caution tape blocked off the entire section. Damn it. A left turn led to a very fine narrow dirt road with dead tree limbs poking into the road. Had he missed his turn again? Probably and if anything, the roadblock was a dead giveaway. 

Time to speak up for once, regretfully so. 

“Uh, guys?” 

“Oh no,” Clint said. “Why do you sound so unsure?” 

“Well to put it lightly.” Steve anxiously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. No street lights either. “We’re lost.” 

Clint’s roar of horror overshadowed Bucky’s rustled movement, now up from the armchair and gesturing for Steve to get up. “Gonna let me take over, punk?” 

The final nail in the coffin. “Fair warning, there’s barely any signal out here.” 

Bucky tapped a few times on his phone before tossing it between the cup holders with a grouchy sigh. “Well, that’s just great.” Darkness shadowed the stretch of the bumpy road aside from the bright headlights. “Hey, Sam! Did you pack your—”  
  
“I dare you to finish that sentence.” 

“Damn.” 

Clint sneaked past a dumbfounded looking Steve and sat in the passenger seat. “Rogers, what kind of hell hole did you lead us to?” 

Steve rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, now shy from never telling anyone prior. Oops. “Sorry?” 

“Y’know Clint, we should give ‘em some slack,” Bucky said, tree limbs scratching the windows. “‘Cause I always found him in some back alley when we were kids.” 

“Adult too,” Steve admitted, voice quiet. 

“‘Tasha’s gonna wake up soon and figure something’s up, so how do we get...” Clint faltered for a second, jaw practically hitting the floor. “Out of here.” 

Another dead end but no ordinary one at that. An abandoned falling apart house around the size of a mansion stood before them. Busted windows, mold growing on the brick sides with dead trees surrounding the building. Prime haunted house material. 

“Oh hell no,” Sam and Clint said simultaneously. 

“Oh, hell yes,” Bucky said back. “Forget about the staged haunted house, this is the real deal.” 

"The _what?"_ Clint shrieked. 

“Buck!” Steve made an effort to emphasize his yell. They were lost, not looking for a spooky place to hang out at. 

“What are you boys shouting about now?” 

Steve spun on his heels, coming face to face with Natasha. Clint’s pleading eyes said ‘ _don’t you dare tell her_ ’ but Steve was a terrible liar and Natasha damn well knew. “I got us lost and it ended up leading to an abandoned building—” Steve watched as Bucky sorted through the small black bag with the chest strap. “That Buck wants to explore.” 

“Nice.” 

“Nat,” Steve and Clint whined. 

Bucky high fived Natasha as he passed by her. “Knew I could count on you.” 

Clint slid over to the driver’s seat. “Go ahead, I’m staying right here.” 

“I would too but I might as well chaperone these fools,” Sam said with a sigh. 

Bucky waved the secretive item in his metal hand. “Didn’t plan on using it this way but it should come in handy. Works out much better too.” 

Sam scoffed, eyeing the object from a distance. “You don’t actually believe in that stuff, do you?”  
  
“Steve’s practically a science experiment, so why not.” 

Annoyed, Steve crossed his arms and pulled on a long hard face. “An EMF detector? That's what you've been hiding for me? Where'd you even get one of those?” 

“Scared of a little ghost, Stevie?” Bucky winked, damn him for dragging Steve into this. Whatever, where Bucky wants to go, Steve follows, vice versa. "And the internet, duh." 

“No,” Steve said soon as Bucky asked. "Why would I be?" 

Bucky stepped out the open front door, down two small steps. “It'll be fun, trust me.”  
  
“Your definition of ‘fun’ is debatable,” Sam said. 

Getting inside turned out to be easy enough. No need to pick a lock since the doors no longer remained. Leaves and shattered glass crunched beneath their feet. Pitch black darkness surrounded the short hallway, besides the small glow of light emitting from Natasha’s phone. Broken up wooden stairs leading to a second floor, holes on almost every step. 

Bucky flipped the switch on the detector. All five lights flashed red almost immediately when he walked closer to the stairs. “God, I love this thing.” 

Sam clutched the nap of Steve’s shirt collar. “Alright I take it back, this ain’t funny anymore.” 

Calm as ever, Natasha trailed a hand across the perfectly intact handrail. “Think someone died here?” 

“Way to be blunt,” Steve muttered, feeling as spooked as Sam. 

The device whined a sharp monotone wail. 

“I take that as a yes,” Bucky said, flesh arm shaking slightly. Interestingly, Bucky held his freight at bay and wouldn’t admit to it. 

“Were you murdered?” Natasha asked the ghost. Right, like it could hear anything. 

“Oh so now you’re gonna start talking to it?” Sam’s voice echoed, bouncing off the high ceiling walls. 

_An eight-second whine._

Steve huddled his arms around himself, crowing into Sam on instinct. “I should’ve brought the shield.” 

Sam scoffed, backing away from Bucky who waved the whining device in the air. “Like that would do anything.” 

Crunching noises came from the second floor, resembling a tree branch breaking in half. 

“What the hell,” Bucky cursed a few times, he too decided to join Steve and Sam’s scaredy-cat party. 

Darkness surrounded them right as another eerie noise broke the lingering silence aside from their heaving breathing. 

“Damn it, my phone died,” Natasha said. 

Steve’s blood ran cold, the cool metal hand once on his arm vanished within seconds. Not like walking away but just poof, gone. “Buck?” He shouted, far too dark to see anything “Bucky!” 

Sam dropped his phone in the process of turning the flashlight on. “Shit, okay, got it, I got it.” 

“Buck!”  
  
_Meoooow._

 _'Oh God, he's been turned into a cat by some ghost or witch,_ ' Steve thought. 

“Calm down, Punk.” 

A short haired kitten, about twice the size of Bucky’s forearm was tucked close to his chest. 

“A cat?” Sam said. “A cat! We were scared of a cat.” 

Steve doubled over, throwing his head back among his loud laughter. “Animals, why didn’t I think of that?” An itch crept up his spine, something cold brushing against his upper arm. “Okay that’s enough Buck, I get it. Stop tickling me.”  
  
Bucky paled, horror was written all over his face. “But I'm not touching you.” 

Footsteps stomped upstairs, a thump followed after. 

“Run!” Natasha shouted, first to do so. 

Sam wasn’t too far behind, he skipped the steps by jumping over them. “I knew this place was bad news!” 

Thank goodness for Clint, who had the RV up and running to go. “I’d make a joke about how we're the Avengers but I’m freaked out as much as you all are.” 

“You brought the kitten?” Steve eyed the little fuzzball, wet matted fur covered in dirt. 

Bucky scratched behind the kitten’s ears, purring immediately at the contact. “Little guy doesn’t need to be out there.” 

"Pet store?" Clint asked, going past the speed limit and not looking back. 

"Yeah, good idea," Bucky said while the cat nuzzled into the crook of his neck. 

"Remind me," Steve started, "to never listen to your antics— or agree to them." 

"Ten dollars says you'll buy him the most expensive cat accessories," Sam said. 

A two-AM stop at Petsmart proved that right.

"Steeevie," Bucky whined, a puppy dog look on his face. 

"Buck," Steve sighed, damn it. "Fine, we'll get it but I still want a dog someday." 

"I'm not against having a dog," Bucky said. "That's up to Alpine." 

"Alpine, huh? Well, I'm naming our future dog, 'Dodger' then." 

Steve did in fact buy the two hundred dollar cat tower along with expensive grain free cat food. 

The trip went smoothly from there on out. They skipped the haunted house after enduring the paranormal experience. Most stops were of scenery, waterfalls, cliffs, rivers, and many trails to explore. Clint and Bucky had devoured soft pretzels at some hole in the wall shopping center. Steve did get to hike like he wanted, alone with Bucky.  
  
Bucky ended up winning the Twitter photo contest. A selfie with Steve sleeping on an armchair, drool and all. Clint’s photo was of him hanging from a tree limb, unsurprisingly. Sam with the photo he and Bucky took with Mr. Stan Lee. Natasha posted a photo of Alpine enjoying the multi-pack of cat toys. 

Most of all, Steve’s carved pumpkin with the initial rough design he drew out on his sketchpad. 

_Bucky bear._

Best Halloween ever. 

**Author's Note:**

> I made a post on Tumblr if anyone wants to reblog it :3 [Metalbvcky](https://metalbvcky.tumblr.com/post/633523856171237376/halloween-wasnt-exactly-steves-most-memorable)


End file.
